


A Detailed Evening

by poptod



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptod/pseuds/poptod
Summary: You and Gerard talk about the meaning of your lives, the worth of material objects, and the distant future. (Gender neutral reader)





	A Detailed Evening

Sunlight barely speckled your room, the curtains drawn tight against the windows. All your lights were turned off, deemed to bright for your sickened eyes. The only real source of light in the dim, poster-adorned room were the fairy lights stringing your bed. It was late evening, but it was around that time of year where it doesn’t get dark until late into the night. Your hand lazily traced a poster that hung right next to you, and you read the familiar words once more.

“What do you think made you sick anyway?”

The mellow tones of your friend, your _best_  friend, spoke. Your hand fell to back to your side and you turned to look to your left, where he lay next to you.

“Not sure. Might’ve been that candy I found on the ground that I ate,” you said, partially being serious. You smiled anyway. It, smiling, was a habit you picked up after realizing that if you smiled, Gerard smiled as well. As always, he smiled back at you, giggling a little bit.

"You need to take better care of yourself. I’m serious,” he added at the end after he noticed you were continuing to laugh. You sighed, letting your face return to its normal tone. You turned your head to glance up at the white painted ceiling of your room. “You’ve blacked out twice in the past month,” he said softly, and you could still feel his eyes on you. When your gaze flickered over to him, he looked away.

“I’m fine, really. It’s not like I’m on drugs or anything. Not addicted to anything,” you told him, adding an ‘ _except you_ ‘ to yourself, in your thoughts. You cringed internally. How cliche of you.

He was silent for a little bit.

“You’re dying,” he murmured.

That was the first time either of you had said it outright. You’d told him about your illness not too long ago. He pretended to take it well, but you’d known him long enough. This sickness on top of your life threatening illness was not fun, and it left you feeling haggard and aching everywhere. Especially in your chest. You never did like to talk about it though - maybe because if you talked about it, it would finally become real. So far, it didn't feel very real.

“I’m fine. The doctors say I’ll live,” you replied quietly, bringing your hands up to your stomach as you fiddled with the bottom of your t shirt. Next to you, Gerard visibly relaxed.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

 

You both knew that the doctors in New Jersey weren’t really the best, but what can one do but cling to hope? Besides, it wasn’t like a medical degree meant nothing.

Deciding that you’d been staring at the ceiling long enough, you shifted your head to be looking at your friend. The sun was shining through the curtains, landing honeyed on his pale face. He never really did have very much color to his cheeks, but he had dark circles around his eyes, and a beautiful smile. He wasn’t currently smiling, but you liked to remember when he did.

“You look really nice right now.”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. As he turned to you with wide eyes, you could barely even recall saying them.

“Um… no… I never look very, um, good,” he chuckled abashedly, turning away and tensing his shoulders once more. You frowned a little.

“You always say that. I think you look very nice, though,” you told him. An urge to touch him, to grace your fingers against his skin passed through your mind but quickly faded. Instead, you tapped your stomach with your fingertips.

“I’m fucking fat, (Y/N),” he outright told you, turning to you with a glare hiding sadness beneath it. You shrugged.

“Doesn’t mean you’re ugly. I think you’re-“ you paused. Where exactly were you taking this sentence?

“I’m what?” Gerard asked quietly, a hint of anxiety in his tone. You watched as his hands grew tighter around each other. You turned your head back to the wall in shame, reading the posters over in your head again.

“I think you’re kinda pretty,” you mumbled, half hoping he wouldn’t hear and half desperately wishing he did. He, to your dismay and excitement, did hear you, and his hands fell to his sides.

“Oh,” was all he replied with. Your body shook with undue excitement as you thought of what would happen if you let your hand slip down to your side as well. You took a shuddering breath as you imagined holding his hand.

It was wrong, and you knew it. Your parents, being incredibly conservative, probably wanted you to wait till marriage till you held hands with anyone. It was only because you’d known Gerard since you were both babies that he was even allowed anywhere near your room.

Your breath stilled to a halt as you realized that, against your own conscious will, your hand was beginning to slip off your stomach and down to your side. The both of you were silent, waiting in baited anxiety and breath. Both your heads were turned away from each other. You hadn’t been quite this nervous in a lifetime. Your breath hitched once more as you felt his pinkie rub against yours. He must’ve heard this, because he didn’t move further, his hand stilled ever so close to yours.

Slowly, you uncurled your fist, letting the back of your hand rest on the soft sheets of the bed. With much hesitation, your hand made its way beneath his, and he clutched it tightly. As nerve wracking as it was, it was comfortable. A little sweaty, but everything you’d abashedly dreamt of. You were anxious, and rightfully so. The boy next to you was not only incredibly attractive, but you’d known him near your entire life. You fought and played together, and innocent friendships developed into complicated feelings as hormones went whirling around both your bodies. Societies expectations weighed down on you and the expectancy that you’d stay friends, since you always were, felt stifling. Gerard didn’t seem to notice this, and went straight into discussing the topic. He never really was very intuitive in the emotional area.

“I’ve never held hands with someone before,” he told you, quietly. Most likely it was true. His brother wasn’t the type, his mother was working, he only had a few friends and you were the closest, and you’d never held his hand out of fear of being caught. “It’s nice,” he added softly, seeing that you weren’t replying. You didn’t turn around either, despite the fact that you could feel his gentle gaze on your neck.

“Human touch is natural. To live without it is to go against nature,” you replied, far too philosophical for your own liking. You still didn’t turn to him, too afraid of his gaze. He just chuckled loftily though.

“I guess. Maybe. Guys aren’t supposed to enjoy holding hands though,” he said, making you bite your cheek.

“Men aren’t that biologically different from females. I think that they are sort of just held to a different standard because of culture.”

“So you think it’s healthy for men n’ stuff to be touched often?”

You laughed a bit.

“Yes, I think its healthy for ‘men n’ stuff’ to have physical human contact. Those that don’t usually go insane. That’s called solitary confinement, Gee,” you said, finally turning to face him with a smile. He was laughing too, his left hand covering his mouth while his right hand tightened around yours.

His laughter ended with a happy sigh, and he looked at you for a few more seconds before turning his attention to the ceiling. The boring, white ceiling of your bedroom. You looked at it as well, taking notice of the spiderwebs in the corner that you had to clean out. Besides, the spider that inhabited that little area was long dead.

Sunlight faded quickly, as it does during sunsets of the summer. Over the course of your short or long silence, you couldn’t tell, the sun had officially stopped shining through your bleary curtains, and the only source of light was officially, now your fairy lights. You could count the space-themed glow stickers that stuck to the space between your various posters, but they really didn’t give off much light at all.

“You thought about what college you’re going to?” He began out of nowhere. His fingers started flexing a beat against your hand. You bit your tongue fiercely.

“Yeah,” you answered curtly before continuing, “where are you going?”

“What makes you think I’ve got it figured out?”

“You’ve got everything figured out.”

He chuckled a bit, before turning to you and answering.

“Visual arts school, in New York. It’s not far from here, so uh, I can visit,” he trailed off quietly at the end.

You swallowed before answering yourself.

“I’m going to Santa Barbara University. California,” you said somberly, your voice slightly choked. The two of you would literally be on separate coasts.

“… oh.”

He was quiet for a minute before he asked, “are you going after you get better or during your recovery?”

“If I don’t go during my… illness, I won’t be able to go at all. Don’t worry though,” you said, noticing the worry etched into his eyes and the tightened squeeze of his hand. “I’m a tough cat.”

Gerard started a stifled laughter. He bit his lips together, holding a hand over his mouth as creases formed next to his eyes. Slight, quiet laughter came from his mouth despite his efforts.

“Tough… cat?”

“Yeah. Cats are tough,” you tried to pointlessly defend yourself, realizing just as he said it that it was stupid.

“You… could’ve just, said, I don’t know, a more common phrase? Like, huh, maybe tough cookie?” He said, starting to burst out laughing. His face grew red as he tilted his head up, laughter spewing out of him like a fountain. You couldn’t help but smile, giggling a bit yourself as you watched him.

After about a minute or so more of repeated bouts of laughter, he calmed down, looking at you with a satisfied smile.

“It’s supposed to be beautiful, you know. Santa Barbara. Mexican architecture or somethin’. Big, beautiful ocean, white sand, palm trees,” you relayed a travel brochure you’d read to him. You weren’t entirely sure why you veered back onto this path of conversation, seeing his face fall again. You gulped. “You can visit me any time. It’d be nice to just, sit on the beach with you… or something. Swim. Walk. I’ve heard they have good ice cream,” you began rambling as you continued.

“Yeah,” he interrupted you before you could continue. “It sounds nice.” His thumb stroked your hand once which sent a shock of excitement up your spine. You swallowed harshly, taking no further action to speak or move.

It felt like a long time had passed.

“Do you remember when you bought those glow in the dark stars?” He asked. You remembered very clearly.

“Yeah, actually,” you replied, your voice clear and reflective. He turned to you surprised, motioning for you to explain. You let out a breathy laugh before you told him.

“I was in Encinitas, a small town in California. Just me n’ my mom. We went to this arts and crafts store that had all these stupid, fill-the-space objects like stones and books with nothing in them. I saw this section of the store that had toys for kids, and one of them happened to be glow in the dark stars. I remember wanting them so badly,” you laughed as you thought back fondly.

“What about now? You still want them as much as you did?”

You sighed.

“No… I actually remember begging my parents for every poster in this room. Now I don’t really care for any of them,” you explained quietly. He listened intently, as always.

“I was thinking of taking them down, but I’m going to be gone soon anyway, so there’s not really a point.”

“Even the Toy Dolls poster?” Gerard asked, looking at you expectantly.

“You know what? I actually still want that one,” you laughed, spurring Gee on to laugh as well.

“I dunno, though. It feels like all those desperate emotions I felt are just an alien memory. Doesn’t feel like me,” you told him quietly.

“I think that’s part of growing up,” he said, squeezing your hand tightly before releasing his tight grip. His hand still remained in yours. “Interests change, and things that we want dissipate as our love for things changes and what we like changes.”

He continued, waxing poetic as he always did. You almost didn’t hear him as your heart welled three times its regular size, beating ferociously. You didn’t give it second thought as you whipped onto your side, your right hand attaching itself to Gerard’s cheek and lowering your lips quickly to his. You couldn’t identify a single emotion that you were feeling - it all felt hot and exciting and thrilling.

He made a choking sound, his voice cracking as his hands came up in a surrendered position. You immediately pulled away.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you said without hesitation, completely removing yourself from all contact with him. He was staring at your ceiling, eyes wide and mouth partially open. He looked incredibly confused.

“Shit, it was an accident, I don’t know what came over me,” you said, your words slurring together as you realized what was probably about to happen. He was gonna _hate_ you.

You groaned, mumbling nonsense to yourself as you hid your face in your hands. “I’m just gonna leave,” you mumbled to him, getting up to leave at the end of the bed. Before you could however, he grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. You turned back to face him, and he still looked scared. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, though not as bad as before.

Ever so slowly, maintaining eye contact, he leaned forward. His hand that wasn’t holding you down moved to your waist, balancing himself as he inched closer. Your jaw clenched tight as you watched him, his hair partially in his face as always, eyes glistening brightly and intently watching you, as if you were the only peace left in the world. You felt his hand, with soft skin trace up your barren arm, resting at the back of your neck.

You gulped, still not moving in fear of interpreting his actions the wrong way.

He blinked before moving in, his eyes slowly closing as he got closer. You’re pretty sure that you stopped breathing.

His lips touched yours with the grace of a feather, and you barely would’ve felt his touch had it not been for the fact that everything you were feeling was increased tenfold. Slowly and tenderly, you let your hands rest on his shoulders, not pulling him closer or further away.

After an undefined amount of blissful time had passed, he pulled away, his eyes shockingly never leaving yours. He almost never held eye contact with you, or anyone else, for that matter.

“We probably shouldn’t’ve done that,” you said breathily, completely unsure of everything except him. As the reality of your situation set in, of your overly conservative parents, of a promise-less future, and the fact that soon you’d have to move out and take care of yourself, that you were about to be your own person regardless of whether you wanted that or not, you realized that you were all around, incredibly, irrevocably unsure. Unsure of your situation, of your parents, of schooling, of friends, money, work, life, of near everything - except him.

“Do you regret it?” He asked.

“Not at all.”

You kissed him again, and he kissed right back.

**Author's Note:**

> lets play 'guess where the author lives'  
> okay hope you enjoyed it that's it love y'all bye


End file.
